Ricochet
by JillianCasey
Summary: Post-finale fic. Beckett copes the best she can, and Castle learns that good intentions don't always lead to good results.
1. One

**_Hello all :) This is a post-finale fic. I know it's not how Season 3 will go, but I wrote it anyway. It starts in the midst of A Deadly Game and progresses from there. _**

"Time's running out, Gina. And when it does, _Naked Heat_ is going to the back of the queue. I'm not letting all our other writers get pushed back for Castle."

Gina sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. Damn Richard Castle. She's going to kill him when she finally gets ahold of him.

"I'm working on it, Chris."

"I understand that. But if Castle doesn't get this in on time, Cartwright's next book could be behind by up to a month, and Hanson's too. Not to mention what the rushed first printing will cost you."

"I _know_."

"Have you talked to him?"

"He's avoiding my calls."

"Go knock on his door."

"I'm not a goddamn intern, Chris. I know how to work with my authors. Castle's book will be on time, and it won't jeopardize the schedule of our other authors."

"Fine. But I'm holding you to that."

The dial tone buzzes loudly in her ear, and Gina hangs up the phone before groaning in frustration. Isn't Richard supposed to be _less_ of a pain in the ass now that they're divorced?

He had been. He'd turned in his manuscripts on time, charmed the press, and made millions. He was just fine until he'd killed off Derrick Storm and met that muse of his. What's her name? Beckett.

Well damn her too.

_Heat Wave_ had been on time. It was incredibly successful, better than some of the Derrick Storms, and Gina was thrilled. Why wouldn't she be? Money in Richard's pocket was money in hers.

She'd heard the rumors, of course. They started out quietly, probably just a press pull courtesy of his crazy agent Paula. Then the rumors started to get louder, right around the release party. Gina had seen the pictures. Real-life Nikki Heat was all legs and cheekbones and much too pretty to be a cop, and Gina assumed that if Richard was dedicating a whole series to her, then Detective Beckett must really be something else in bed. Because honestly, was Richard even capable of following one woman around for that long without bedding her?

Apparently, shockingly, he was. Because when Martha had picked up the phone yesterday and said Richard was on the way to the precinct and unavailable to take her call, Gina had just come right out and asked her. Martha had laughed, that lilting, full laugh that belonged on the stage, and said that no, Richard did not have the pleasure of being anything more than Detective Beckett's friend.

What the hell.

So she'd called Beckett, thinking maybe the muse could inspire the writer to stop acting like a hormonal puppy and start writing. That hadn't worked either, because she still hasn't heard from Richard. And now here she is, dealing with this shit, and God, she _will_ strangle Richard when she sees him.

She picks up her phone and dials his landline, taking out her frustration on the buttons. She's stunned when Alexis actually answers, because she'd assumed Richard would've trained his daughter not to answer calls from his evil ex-wife when he's dancing so close to missing a deadline.

"Alexis. It's Gina."

Gina can't bring herself to be offended by the awkward pause on the other end of the line. "Oh. Hi."

"Can you get your dad for me?"

"Sure-"

"Wait. Don't tell him it's me. Tell him…well, I don't care what you tell him. Tell him I'm that detective woman if you want."

"Detective Beckett?" Alexis asks.

Before Gina can answer, she hears Richard in the background. "Beckett? Beckett's on the phone? Give me the…hello, Detective. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Gina can't contain her smirk. "Hello, Richard."

"You're not Beckett."

Gina lets out a sharp laugh. "No, I'm not."

He sighs. "What do you want?"

"You know what I want. And I wanted it two weeks ago."

"I've been…busy."

"Busy doing what? Playing cops and robbers?"

There's a long silence, and then the soft clicking of a door in the background. He's probably gone into his office, away from Alexis. Gina leans back in her chair and stares at the ceiling.

"What are you doing, Richard?"

"I'm drinking."

Probably scotch. High end stuff. "I don't mean now. I mean with this book. What's gotten into you?"

"I've got…I'm having problems."

"With the book? Or with the muse?"

There's another long silence. Gina clicks her manicured fingers on the armrest of her chair and takes a deep breath. God, this woman has really gotten to him. The continued silence on the other end of the line tells Gina everything she needs to know. Richard's infatuated with his muse, and judging from the last chapters he'd sent of _Naked Heat_, in which Nikki Heat flirts shamelessly with a hot robbery detective named Schlemming, Detective Beckett doesn't feel the same way.

Richard, however, is still following her around. And the more he follows her around, the less he writes. Gina sighs again. The only way _Naked Heat_ is ever going to be finished is if she can get Richard away from Beckett and anything that makes him think of her. His mansion in the Hamptons is probably her best bet, since it will be summer soon and there'll be parties and rich blondes looking to have a good time. If she can get Richard the partier back, maybe she can get Richard the writer back.

But how to get him away? If he's still following Beckett when she's so obviously interested in someone else, he has it bad. She can't play on the jealousy, because if they fight then he'll never write Nikki Heat again. It has to be a somewhat amicable breach. Gina raps out a faster rhythm with her nails. How should she play this, what can she…

It hits her suddenly. Of course. How could she forget that annoying sense of nobility he tries so hard to keep out of the press? If letting Beckett go means saving her some trouble, letting her be happy…Richard will jump at the chance. She just has to tell him how high.

"You can't do this," she starts, her tone softening to just the right level.

"What are you talking about?"

Gina cuts right to the chase before he gets distracted. "Is she happy?"

"What?"

"With that detective. With Schlemming's alter ego. Is she happy?"

If Gina cared, his silence would be painful. "I don't know."

"I think you do."

On the other end of the line, Richard lets out a heavy sigh. "Yeah. Yeah, she is."

"So what are you doing?"

"I…don't know."

Oh God, this is pathetic. Gina straightens in her chair and examines her fingernails.

"Look, Richard, even if she wasn't happy, even if you had a chance to tell her how you feel…how could you? She doesn't fit in your world. You really think she could be the supportive woman hanging on your arm while you sign chests?"

Richard still doesn't answer, and Gina pictures him taking a swig of scotch and staring mournfully at his laptop.

"I saw pictures of the launch party," she tries. "She looked uncomfortable. Like it was the last place in the world she wanted to be."

"We had a fight. I was acting like a jackass."

"And you think that's what made her uncomfortable? Think about what she looked like _before_ you spoke to her, Richard. She hated it, didn't she?"

"She could get used to it," Richard insists.

"Are you sure? She'd be okay with you flirting with other women just because you have to uphold your rep? She'd understand your mansion in the Hamptons and your affinity for really expensive wines and food?"

"That's not everything I am," he argues. "I'm other things, too."

"Don't be ridiculous. Everything about you screams Page Six. I know it; she knows it…why don't you? She doesn't fit, Richard. And it's not fair to try to make her fit."

Gina lets the silence linger for a second, just to let her words sink in, before starting again.

"Besides, what happens when Nikki Heat is done? What then? What happens when you stop shadowing her? Aside from Nikki Heat and murder, what do you two even have in common?"

She hears the slow release of breath, and she knows she has him.

X-X-X-X-X

Javier is staring at the scene in front of him in stunned horror when Lanie says something in his ear.

"Who is _that_?"

She's talking about the blonde who's hanging on Castle's arm like she owns him.

"Ex-wife," he answers. Castle had shown him a picture once when they'd been swapping horror stories about exes with Ryan.

"Son of a bitch," Lanie says in disbelief.

Castle puts his arm around the blonde and they turn away. The look on Beckett's face is heartbreaking.

"I'll kill him," Javier snarls.

Lanie shakes her head. "You don't even know what happened yet."

She's right, he doesn't, but he does know what he told Beckett the other day about Castle, and he does know that Demming didn't look very happy getting on the elevator a little while ago. Beckett's hard to read and unpredictable, but Javier's not an idiot. She likes Castle just as much as Castle likes her, and yet somehow Castle's walking away with his ex-wife and Beckett looks like she just got emotionally bulldozed.

"Do you see the look on her face?" he says angrily.

"Of course I do," Lanie snaps back. "But she's Beckett; she doesn't need you to rescue her."

"So what do we do?" Ryan asks.

"Nothing. I'm her best friend. It's my move."

The doors to the elevators aren't even closed before Beckett turns her back on Castle and his ex-wife. Javier watches as she reenters the room, clutching her beer bottle like it's keeping her on her feet. The overpowering urge to throttle Castle takes over again. Javier wants to go back in time and take back what he told her the other day, wants to do whatever it takes so that she won't have that look on her face anymore.

The thunk of Beckett's beer bottle on the table snaps him out of his violent thoughts. She smiles dimly at the group in front of her and sighs, running a hand through her hair.

"Well, I guess there's no point in having a party for Castle if he's not here, is there?"

She's met with silence, and Javier watches as she shifts awkwardly in front of them.

"No, not really," Ryan pipes up after a moment.

Beckett smiles at him, then at Javier. "Want help cleaning up?"

Her voice wavers just a little, and Javier clenches a fist. "No," he answers gently.

"Okay. See you Tuesday."

She's out of the room in record time, heading for her desk, and Lanie is in hot pursuit.

X-X-X-X-X

"Kate."

Kate ignores her and pulls her coat on. Lanie stops next to her.

"Kate," she says more insistently.

"Hey," Kate answers as if she hadn't heard Lanie the first time, turning toward her with what's supposed to be a smile. Her eyes are glistening and her movements are stiff, almost jerky. It's nothing like the Kate she knows, the fluid movements and controlled reactions, and Lanie suddenly regrets telling Esposito not to kill Castle.

"Let's go get margaritas."

"I'm tired," Kate says, reaching for her phone and her bag. "I think I'm just going to go home."

"You hate that sublet."

"It's not that bad."

"Kate-"

"Don't," Kate interrupts, and Lanie stops instantly because she's caught it, the voice waver. She fights the sudden urge to step forward and wrap her best friend in a tight hug.

"Talk to me," Lanie tries, changing her tactics. Letting what happened casually slide by and hoping for an explanation later isn't working, because Kate isn't going to be around later. The sirens are blaring and the locks are turning, and every second that passes transforms the detective in front of her into Fortress Beckett instead of Kate.

"There's nothing to talk about."

"What just happened with Castle?"

"Let it go, Lanie."

Kate turns and heads for the elevator without another word, and Lanie can do nothing but let her go.

X-X-X-X-X

Kate spends five minutes alone in her sublet before she feels like the walls are closing in on her and she needs to get out. The precinct gym reminds her of Tom, the shooting range reminds her of Castle…where can she go? She wants to get lost. Wants to blend in with something larger than herself, wants to fade away. So she puts on her running shoes, shoves her headphones into her ears, hits the streets, and starts running. She doesn't know where she's going, doesn't know why, but she knows she's going somewhere and that's enough.

The farther she gets from her sublet, the faster she runs. The words are on repeat in her head, playing over and over again_. I know I'm not the easiest to get to know. It's been great. See you in the fall. _

_See you in the fall._

She's been running for a long time. She maintains her fast pace anyway, the slapping of her feet on the concrete drowned out by the deafening volume of her iPod. There's a lump forming in the back of her throat, something pushing to be let out from somewhere down deep, but Kate ignores it and runs faster.

She darts across a street in a neighborhood and finally comes to a stop, doubling over, wheezing. She straightens and searches the area around her desperately. Her gaze settles on a trashcan in a nearby alley, and she barely makes it there, gripping the sides so hard her knuckles turn white, before she throws up.

X-X-X-X-X

Kate spends the holiday weekend alone. After her run Friday night, she gets back to her sublet and opens a bottle of wine. She doesn't bother pouring it in a glass, and instead drinks right out of the bottle. She takes a shower, and when she's done she calls the pizza joint down the block. They deliver a huge pizza, but by the time she's finished most of the bottle she's only eaten half a slice.

The sublet is tiny compared to her old apartment, and Kate can feel the walls closing in around her again. She's drinking the wine so fast her mind is in a pleasant fuzz, but it's not enough. She wants to forget everything; wants to forget the stupid risk she'd taken at a stupid time for a stupid reason, but she can't. She can't forget the way she feels about him anymore than she can forget the plummet her heart had taken when she'd watched him walk away with Gina.

Maybe he won't come back.

She doesn't know why that thought suddenly pops into her brain, but it does. She runs through the scenario in her head as she picks a piece of pepperoni off of her half eaten slice of pizza. Castle and Gina spend the summer falling in love again. He comes back in September, tan and smiling, and announces that he and Gina are going to get married. Again. Gina doesn't want him in harm's way, which is exactly where he is when he works with the NYPD; therefore, he's not going to consult anymore. Instead, he'll spend his days in bed with Gina and writing.

_Thanks for everything, _she can hear him saying_. It's been great. I'll send your wedding invitation in the mail. _

God, it's not even real and she feels sick. She takes another swig of wine and reclines on the couch. It's too short to hold her long frame, so her head rests on one armrest and her feet dangle over the other one. She peels the label on the bottle and stares at the ceiling, wondering how the hell she got here.

She'd had a plan. A don't-fall-for-Castle plan. It was simple: never take him seriously, don't talk about her personal life or his, and avoid physical contact at all costs. She's at least stuck to the last one. Thank God.

Her first mistake was that she'd told him about her mother. After that, all kinds of personal things had flooded out of her, and he'd shared a fair amount too. They'd gone from author and detective to colleagues to friends. She'd been standing on the threshold of something more when Gina had showed up.

Mistake number two was taking him seriously. One word, _extraordinary_, and she'd been ready to give him her heart on a silver platter. His jealousy over Demming and the idea of losing him during their "break" had made her get out her platter again, but just like at the launch party, she'd been left standing with her heart in her hands like an idiot, wanting something she had no business wanting.

And that, really, is the problem. That she wants something she can't have, shouldn't have. What was she thinking? World famous novelist Richard Castle, swimming in cash and women and anything he could ever want, and Kate Beckett, NYPD homicide detective with a tragic past. It doesn't fit. They're from two different worlds, and they belong in two different worlds.

Kate takes a sip of wine and glances around her sublet, allowing herself a rare moment to wallow in how unfair life can be. She finally works up the courage to take a chance, to tell Castle that maybe she'd like to take him up on all the innuendos he's been throwing at her from day one, and it backfires on her. What else is new?

Her eyes fall on the window that leads to the fire escape. After a long moment of debating whether or not she wants to move, she gets up and opens the window. She steps out onto the fire escape and leans on the railing, staring out at the city. There's noise and a weird combination of food and gasoline smells, and there's a little bit of a breeze blowing through the city. It tousles her hair, and Kate sighs. She tips her wine bottle at the apartment complex across the street in a mock toast.

It's going to be a long summer.


	2. Two

It was Gina's idea.

Rick had listened to her reluctantly at first, argued with her, but the more she talked, the more sense it made. Beckett was happy. He'd seen the smile on her face after she'd kissed Demming. He'd heard her throaty laugh when Demming had been whispering in her ear in the bullpen. She was happy. Could he really take that from her?

So, Gina came up with a plan. Spend the summer in the Hamptons. In order to prevent Beckett from assuming he's running away like a jealous child, they would pretend that they rediscovered what they'd had early on in their relationship. Say they talked on the phone for hours, found each other again. That way Beckett would spend her summer happy with Demming and thinking he was happy with someone else.

Except he isn't. And God, he hates Tom Demming.

But what could he have possibly offered Beckett that Demming couldn't? Innuendos and casual flirting? The press, who would hound her mercilessly if the relationship was ever anything more than professional? Two failed marriages under his belt, a reputation as a womanizer….

Demming is better for her. Much better. Younger, smart, attractive. Muscles and assertiveness, which Beckett seems to like judging from Sorenson and some other guys he's seen her take a second look at. So what the hell was he thinking, hanging around? How could he claim to care about her, and then get in the way of what she wanted, what she deserved? Gina was right and he couldn't argue with her. He wouldn't.

Walking away from Beckett nearly broke his resolve. She'd had this look on her face, like she was actually going to miss him. Maybe she would. Just not the way he would miss her.

God, he wanted her.

He'd tried to hug her. Even if only to smell her, to feel her against him…Gina had stubbornly refused to let go of his arm, and he'd remembered her last orders as he shook Beckett's hand.

_Don't touch her, Richard. Don't look at her too long, or you're going to convince yourself that you should stay. But you can't. I'm coming in to get you from your little party, and then we're leaving. _

And they had. And hell, he's never hated walking away from someone more than he hated walking away from Kate Beckett.

But here he is in the Hamptons, alone. Gina went back to the city after she got two chapters in four days and was satisfied that he could finish without a babysitter. Chapters are pouring out of him now, and Gina's thrilled because she thinks it's a result of Beckett's absence. And it is. Just not the way she thinks.

Being away from Beckett, not getting to see her every day, means that Nikki Heat is all he has left. When Nikki ducks under the yellow tape and asks Roach what there is for her, Rick can hear Beckett's voice. When Nikki smirks at Rook and rolls her eyes, Rick can close his eyes and see her. Every time he sits down to write he realizes that Nikki Heat is becoming less of a character and more of a last attempt to hang on to what he never knew he wanted until someone else wanted her. And really, how can his stupidity make this any one's fault but his own?

Rick sighs and shuts his laptop. Isn't he supposed to be over her by now? His track record glares at him every time he thinks of her. He doesn't take long to get over women. Minutes, hours, a day or two. His divorces had been harder, but he hasn't been married to Beckett. He hasn't dated her, hasn't even kissed her. So how is it that he can't escape her?

Why the hell can't he let her go?

X-X-X-X-X

In her head, Lanie likens Kate's turnaround to a severe case of a whiplash.

For two weeks, Kate Beckett is a quiet, impenetrable, crime solving machine. She comes to work early, with dark circles under her eyes and a massive cup of coffee in her hand, and barely speaks to anyone. She stays late, later than she has in a long time, and rarely looks up from whatever she's working on. By the time Castle has been gone for two weeks, she has a sizeable list of closed cases on her record that she's solved without him. Lanie gets almost daily reports from Ryan and Esposito, but she doesn't push Kate. She knows it's better to wait for her to come around on her own.

One afternoon in the beginning of June, Lanie's humming to herself and cutting open a stiff when she hears the door to the morgue open. She looks up from the body to see Kate standing in front of her, looking sheepish and nervous. Lanie ignores that and focuses on how thin her friend is. That is _not_ good, considering the woman's always been thin. Now, you could turn her sideways and she'd disappear.

"Hi," Kate says.

Lanie knows she has a split second to decide whether she should fawn over her best friend in sympathy girl mode, or act like nothing ever happened and Kate's just there for a visit. It isn't a hard decision. She looks her best friend up and down with pursed lips and an arched eyebrow.

"Well look who finally decided to come visit."

Kate smiles faintly, and Lanie wonders if it's because she picked the right route. "I've been busy."

"Mhmm," Lanie answers, then looks back down at the body. "What do you need?"

"A girl's night out?"

The hopeful lift in Kate's voice catches Lanie off guard, and she looks up from the body immediately.

"Preferably with alcohol," Kate continues quietly. "Lots of it."

And, of course, there is. Lots and lots. Lanie raises an eyebrow when Kate orders a dirty vodka martini. Personally, she's always thought they taste like turpentine, but she knows its Kate's go to drink for when things are bad, like after that moron Sorenson left her. Now there's a different moron, but Kate is the same.

"Found a new apartment?" Lanie asks, sipping her Long Island Iced Tea. She watches Kate take a gulp of her martini, and her suspicions that it's going to be one of _those_ nights suddenly aren't just suspicions.

"No. I took a break from looking."

"I know someone who could help."

Kate smiles around another sip of her martini. "Of course you do. And he's probably-"

"Hot, yes," Lanie finishes. She's smiling too. "Interested?"

Kate trails her index finger along the rim of her glass absently. "In an apartment, yes."

"I'll give him your phone number."

"Why don't you give me his?"

"I'll give him your phone number."

Kate doesn't argue, and Lanie can't decide if that's a good or a bad sign. Kate takes another long drink of her martini, and Lanie pushes her Long Island away subtly. She knows her best friend, and she knows that Kate Beckett is about to get completely, uncommonly drunk. She also knows that there's a good chance Kate will finally spill her guts about what happened two weeks ago. And she doesn't want to be drunk herself when that happens.

X-X-X-X-X

"S'not a big deal," Kate says unsteadily, peering up at Lanie from above her fifth martini. She pulls an olive off the toothpick and shoves it into her mouth. "I didn't really want him," she mumbles around the olive.

Lanie smiles softly. Kate hasn't noticed Lanie's still got the same Long Island in front of her. "Is that what you've been telling yourself?"

Kate shrugs. "Maybe."

"You can't keep doing that."

Kate holds Lanie's gaze. "I know," she answers quietly.

There's something about the look in Kate's eyes that makes Lanie feel like she's just been punched in the gut. And if she feels like she's been punched, she can't imagine what Kate feels. Like she's been bulldozed or harpooned. Whatever it is it's radiating off of her in waves, and Lanie can feel every wave distinctly. It's something she knows Kate never would've let anyone experience except for the vodka currently coursing through her veins, and the level of trust that implies isn't lost on Lanie. She leans over the table a bit and lowers her voice.

"You wanted him, didn't you?"

Kate swallows and nods. "Yeah. I did."

"I'm sorry, Kate."

Kate shakes her head. "Am I an idiot, Lanie? For thinking that he could ever…that we could…"

She bites her lip and Lanie wants to hug her but knows she can't. "No, baby. You're not an idiot. You took a chance."

"I got burned."

"_He's_ an idiot."

Kate smiles at that, but only barely. "I just thought that maybe…" She shakes her head again. "I thought maybe he was ready."

"To be a grown up?"

"Yeah. To um…" Lanie knows exactly what she's about to say, and she feels a sharp sympathy for her best friend. "To be with me."

"Oh, Kate," Lanie murmurs.

"And I broke up with Tom," Kate adds. Her voice is getting louder. "I broke up with Tom for him."

"I know."

Kate downs the rest of her martini, then waves the glass in the air at the waiter for another one. She's got the toothpick in her hand, and it still has one olive on it. She starts tapping the toothpick against the glass.

"Tom was great."

"Yes."

"Really sweet. Hot as hell."

Lanie can't stop the smile. "Really," she prompts, amused.

"Oh God, yeah," Kate says. The rhythm she's tapping on the glass starts to pick up its pace. "The man had moves."

"Moves, huh?"

"Jesus, Lanie, the moves. Up against the wall in his…why the hell did I break up with him?"

"Because you wanted someone else. And that's not fair to him."

"Fair," Kate snorts. "You know what's not fair? I fucking broke up with Dreamy Demming for a man who's currently gallivanting in the Hamptons with his ex-wife."

Lanie can't help it; she laughs. Kate smiles a bit too, but Lanie isn't sure if that's because the waiter is setting another martini in front of her.

Kate stares down at it for a moment, then pushes it away. She holds the toothpick up in front of her face and examines the last olive as if it has the answer to all her problems. Lanie waits patiently, wondering what the hell is going on in that pretty little head, and then she's stunned when Kate lowers the toothpick and says vehemently, after slamming a hand on the table, "Fuck Rick Castle."

Lanie raises her eyebrows. "Okay, then."

"I'm serious," Kate exclaims, jabbing the toothpick toward Lanie.

"I believe you," Lanie answers, covering Kate's hand with her own and lowering the toothpick down to the table. "You don't need to threaten me with pointy objects."

"I tried to tell him how I feel," Kate rants, ignoring Lanie's comment. "Maybe I'm not as good with words as he is, but at least I tried! And anyway, what the hell was he doing, acting all jealous of Tom and then running off with what's-her-name? And before that there was Ellie Monroe, and…Maddy! He went out with Maddy!"

"I know," Lanie agrees.

"And did I ever say anything to him? Nooo. I never acted jealous and ridiculous and hormonal like he did. Not even when Kyra came back! I…" Kate trails off and her eyes settle on the new martini in front of her, as if she'd forgotten it was there. She reaches for it and takes a sip.

"I don't want him," she declares as she sets her glass back on the table.

"Kate-"

Kate waves her hand at Lanie dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, okay, I do. A little. But I swear to God, Lanie, come September I won't. Hell, come _July_ I won't."

"You're going to try to get over him."

"Hell yes I am. I'm not going to try. I will. I'm not going to spend my summer pining over him like some…some…who pines, Lanie?"

"Teenagers?"

"Teenagers. I'm not a goddamn teenager. Fangirls! I'm not a fangirl either. When he comes back in September, it'll be just like it was in the beginning. Professional."

Kate raises her martini in between them and meets Lanie's eyes with a wounded ferocity that convinces her that yes, Kate Beckett will definitely be over Castle come September. Probably sooner.

"Fuck Castle," Kate says as her toast.

Lanie smiles and lifts her Long Island. "Fuck Castle."

X-X-X-X-X

It starts with a guy she meets before work the following Monday morning. She wants a vanilla latte instead of the break room stuff, so she stops at the coffeehouse down the street from the precinct. The bell over the door jangles as she enters, and he glances over his shoulder curiously from his spot in line. His eyes settle on her immediately. He smiles, and she smiles back.

He orders his drink and the line moves. When Kate orders her drink she glances over her shoulder and sees him watching her. She smiles again, and in three seconds flat he's standing next to her and introducing himself.

His name is Andrew, he's a vet, and she gives him her phone number. They go on three dates, but on the third he asks about her parents. She lies and says they're happily married and live out on Staten Island by her big brother, and then she starts ignoring his phone calls.

Troy is next. She meets him in the alcohol section of the grocery store. He's staring confusedly at the wine, and when Kate apologizes and reaches around him to grab a bottle of her favorite red, he asks her for advice on picking one. They spend twenty minutes flirting over different bottles of wine, and then he takes her to dinner as a thank you. She sees him two more times, realizes he's really into her, and starts ignoring his phone calls too.

After Troy there's dinner and a movie with Ben, who is an accountant. He talks about taxes too much and Kate gets bored, so she only goes out with him once. Very soon after that there's Sam. He's an architect. He takes a job in Chicago after their second date, so they part ways amicably. Suddenly it's the second week of July, and Kate realizes that she thinks about Castle less every day. She hasn't slept with any of the guys she's been dating, but that's okay with her.

Then she meets Dylan.

She still hasn't found an apartment, and Lanie casually mentions her hot friend who she thinks can help. Kate agrees, and she meets him for lunch one day to talk about what she's looking for.

Lanie, of course, is right. Dylan is hot. _Really_ hot. Clean cut, smart, and very, very polite. He's wearing a red silk tie the first time Kate meets him, and all through their lunch she has to fight the urge to yank him toward her by his tie and plant one on him. Dylan's dad is a retired cop, so they hit it off right away and Kate can't stop smiling. Two weeks later she's moving into an apartment he's somehow found that is exactly what she wants and miraculously affordable. They're on their fourth date that night, and she asks him to come up. There are still moving boxes everywhere, including in her bedroom. They have sex for the first time on her mattress, which is on her floor since she hasn't put the bed frame together yet. As she falls asleep with his arms wrapped around her, she decides to keep him around for a little while.

She fully intends to do just that until he asks her to meet his parents, because they're close and his dad really wants to meet her. Kate breaks up with him the day after he asks her and it's almost as hard as breaking up with Tom, because she really likes Dylan. But she can't give him what he wants, and she doesn't want to get in deep.

She mopes for a week after that. Lanie lets her, and Kate knows that it's only because her best friend is just glad she's not still upset over Castle.

Which, if she's honest, isn't entirely true. She still thinks about him. Way more than she should. And it's her horror at the realization that he's coming back in a month and she still sort of, kind of wants him that pushes Kate farther into the dating world.

And that's when she meets Eric.

Lanie tells her constantly that she's got "single girl swag"; she claims that Kate doesn't even see most of the men who are drooling over her. Kate thinks Lanie is insane, and is telling her exactly that on their way up the courthouse steps for a case they're both testifying for one ridiculously hot day in the beginning of August.

Lanie's laughing. "Kate, baby, you're oblivious. You think you're serial dating now? I can't imagine what would happen if you went on a date with every guy who wanted you."

"You and I have different ideas of wanting," Kate argues. "Besides, even if they are looking, it doesn't mean anything. Most guys would take a bed romp with any woman at any time."

"Especially if that woman is you," Lanie teases. "Exhibit A, girl. Ten o'clock."

Kate looks to her left and sees a dark haired man in a suit watching her walk up the steps. She feels a twinge in her abdomen because God, he's hot.

"I'm going to assume your come hither stare means you'd take a bed romp with him."

"Shut up."

She takes a few dates before the bed romp, of course. He's the Assistant DA working the case she and Lanie testify for, and after the second day in court he asks for her phone number. Dinner turns into drinks at a dive he thinks she'll like (and she does), and before she knows it they've stayed up almost all night talking about how the justice system is flawed and how its scarred them and what they'd do if they could. Eric is smart, really smart, and he can take her sense of humor better than anyone she knows. Well, _almost_ anyone. He gives back everything he gets, and when he drops her off in front of her apartment in the wee hours of the morning she kisses him. He seems to like her boldness, and makes plans for their next date on the spot. Then he kisses her, and she revels in the fact that he is a very, very good kisser.

She spends the next day terrified that she's done the worst thing imaginable; she's found a guy who she likes, and who likes her too, and she spent the entire night talking to him. Lanie doesn't believe they just talked, but when Kate finally convinces her they did, in fact, spend the night talking, her best friend is thrilled. That scares Kate even more, and Lanie can tell. She points her finger at Kate.

"Don't do this."

"Lanie-"

"Nu uh, girl. You talked all night to a smart, good looking man who is totally into you. I will _not_ let you sabotage this one."

"What if-"

"If you're about to say something relating to Castle, I will smack you."

Kate bites her lip.

"Eric didn't ask you to marry him. He asked you for a second date. One date at a time, Kate."

X-X-X-X-X

Three weeks later Kate's out with Eric and she can't stop laughing. It's Wednesday night and they're having drinks after a long day. Eric is telling her about how he fell on stage at his high school graduation and took the principal down with him. The more she laughs the more he smiles, and when her laughter finally dies down he puts a hand on her thigh under the table.

"You should laugh more," he tells her, leaning over the table as if he's telling her a secret.

Kate smiles and traces her finger around the rim of her Tequila Sunrise. "Maybe if you were funnier I would," she teases.

He smiles in amusement. He's always smiling. "Lots of women find me very funny, you know," he tells her.

She grins. "Good for them."

Eric puts his hand over his heart. "Ouch. Shot through the heart. You're a wicked woman Kate Beckett." He leans over the table again and lowers his voice. "Can you stay wicked until we get back to your place?"

Kate holds his eyes and takes a slow sip of her drink before she answers. "I only invite funny guys back to my place."

Something in his expression changes suddenly, but he's still smiling. "I tell you what…I promise I will be very, very funny if you come away with me this weekend for Labor Day."

Kate feels her body go rigid, the smile freezing on her face. "Come…where?"

"Lake George," he tells her, watching her face carefully. "I know it's short notice, but one of the guys at work offered me the room for free, and I thought it would be fun."

Kate swallows, avoiding his eyes, and he reaches for her hand. "Kate," he says gently. "I know we've never talked about what we are. And that's okay, we don't have to. This doesn't change anything. I just want to spend the weekend with you. Just an end-of-the-summer getaway."

Kate bites her lip as Eric trails his thumb over her hand.

"Can I think about it?" she asks.

He smiles. "Of course."


End file.
